Stockholm Syndrome
by herecomesthesuntherain
Summary: Kate's analysis of her time down in autopsy with Ari. Set during the episode "Bete Noire" in season one. slight romance intended between kate/ari. don't like, don't read. read and REVIEW please!


(Kate P.O.V.)

It's late. I'm finally back at my own desk , right across from Tony. It's a place that, over the course of the day, I had moments where I thought I would never see it again.

I've spent all day, well, the most exciting points of the day, down in autopsy with Ducky, Gerald, and the one person who sticks out in my mind that I am honestly afraid of. I'm not afraid of him for my own sake; No, I can take care of myself, thank you. I'm more afraid of the fact that he's not afraid…of anything. Of anyone.

Who is he? I don't have a clue. But if I saw him again, I'd know instantly that we had met before. The image of his face is plastered in my brain…and on the plasma screen behind Gibbs' desk. Tony, who wasn't down in autopsy with me at the time, is having a blast talking about the horrific experience.

"…Gibbs figures he was wearing a bullet proof vest all along." he was saying.

"He was. I felt it." I replied, almost not thinking about what I said. I went back to scribbling on the paper in front of me, but I felt Tony's eyes burning into my skull.

"You felt it?" he said. I glanced up at him for a moment but didn't reply. Tony stood up and made his way over to my desk. "Well, how close did you get to feel it? Close enough to touch him." _'Closer,'_ I thought, looking up at Tony with a slightly annoyed expression on my face.

"Close enough to stab him with a knife in my hand." I snapped.

"And you didn't." Tony said.

No, I didn't. And I know exactly why.

In that moment, I was mentally brought back down to autopsy; back to that moment. I could recall exactly how everything looked, smelled, felt.

The terrorist had shot Gerald, and Ducky was trying to fix up the wound until he got to a proper doctor. I was shaking with anger as I turned to a silver table covered with surgical instruments. I picked up a sharp looking one, knowing exactly what I wanted to do.

"Kate, no." Ducky hissed at me from his place at Gerald's side. He made sure only I could hear him. "He wants you to try." I looked over at the terrorist, who was now standing by the door. I slipped the knife behind my back just before he noticed me looking at him. Without taking his eyes off me or the smirk off his face, he moved closer to me. When we were a mere few feet away, I spoke.

"Dr. Mallard thinks you were daring me to pick up this knife." I said, showing him the tool I held behind my back.

"The proper term is a dissecting tool." he said calmly in a heavy Israeli accent but still speaking in perfect English.

"You didn't answer my question." I snapped, my voice getting a little louder. "You just wanted another excuse to shoot Gerald, didn't you?" The terrorist laughed, and then turned his back to me. I made my move. I raised the 'dissecting tool' to stab him, but he surprised me by being faster. Before I knew what had happened, he had me in his left arm, unable to move. A gun was in his other hand, pointed at Ducky, but his eyes were on me. This is when I felt the vest.

"I had no intention of shooting Gerald again, Caitlin." the terrorist assured me. _'Yeah, right.' _I thought He pulled me even closer to him now; close enough to pry the knife from my hand and stab me with it…or close enough to kiss me. He lowered his lips to my ear and I felt my breath rattle in my throat. "I did, however, want to see if I was right about you." _'What did he mean by that?' _I thought, but put it past me and forced myself to look into his eyes.

When mine met his, however, I realized that force was not needed. His eyes were dark; almost black, but still they held so much. Sure, there was that familiar, I'm-better-than-everyone-else, egotistic flicker that almost never failed in DiNozzo's lighter brown eyes, but beneath that was something else. I didn't have to look too hard to see someone who had lost someone close to them, and they were lying dead over on an autopsy table not three yards away. In those dark eyes was someone who had lost a friend; a companion is a companion, no matter how heinous they seem to someone else.

I also saw determination; the almost obsessive need to avenge that I often saw in Gibbs, if seeking vengeance is what he was really here to do. No matter how much I hated the fact that he was willing to go to any lengths to do what he came here to do, al larger part of me admired that greatly.

There was a kindness in his eyes that felt almost out of place from what I knew of his current personality, and for some strange reason, I trusted that he wouldn't hurt me.

He loosened his grip on me right after he spoke without taking his eyes from mine, and that was the perfect moment that any sane person in my position would have stabbed him. But, as DiNozzo already mentioned, I didn't. It was all because of his eyes.

I took about a second and a half to analyze all of this before responding with,

"Next time, I'll be quicker." the terrorist smiled slightly.

"Oh, don't you wonder why you weren't now?" he said. How I regret not stabbing him when I had the chance now; now that Gibbs was shot because he was still alive.

Ducky spoke, relieving me from having to speak to the terrorist again. I didn't hear what Ducky had said, but whatever it was made the terrorist let me go. The knife was held loosely to my side and I forgot all about it as I continued to look at the man who I could have just easily killed. But again, I didn't.

When I was a little farther away from him, I noticed that the terrorist's eyes weren't the only thing that made me re-think killing him. He was very good looking; with a neatly shaved five-o-clock shadow and a winning smile that was slightly ugly in it's smirking state. He was very clean to have come in a body bag; professionally cut nails that any girl would be jealous of but still too masculine to be gay.

I shook my head back to the present and looked at Tony.

"No," I said simply. There was a pause as Tony looked closer at me.

"Stockholm Syndrome?" he offered. I was thinking the same thing, but I wasn't going to give Tony that satisfaction. I sighed."You can't identify with your captor in an hour." I told him and myself, realizing with slight remorse that it had to be true. I thought had, but what I saw in his eyes was just an illusion; an act to get me to let my guard down. But can you lie through your eyes? Maybe what I saw was the truth. Tony spoke again.

"I don't know…maybe it's like falling in love. It can happen-" He snapped his fingers. "like that."


End file.
